Inventing Room
by Quietly Making Noise
Summary: Just don't... touch anything. A series of oneshots exploring pre 05film Wonka's inventions. Latest invention: Candy Catapult
1. Invention 1

**Invention 1: Bouncing Gobstoppers  
**_"What we need ... is a really big stick..."_

'Kerby!'

The girl darted out into the middle of the quiet road as her sister searched for the small bouncy ball in the grass. 'You beast, I want a go!' She tossed it back to the girl, who caught it neatly and grinned.

This time she wasn't so lucky, and the small green ball overshot the kerb and bounced into the grass again. 'Oh noooo!' She turned and dived for the safety of her side of the road, narrowly missing the ball as it came hurtling back.

'…Oops.'

'Elizaaa!' Her sister stamped her foot. 'That's the forth one you've lost that way!'

Eliza scurried to the grid and peered down at the ball bobbing gently amongst the dead leaves. 'Sorry Roberta, I don't know what happened, it sort of… flew.'

Her sister put her head on one side. 'Really.'

Together they poked their fingers through the metal, but the ball was at least three feet down. 'Do you reckon anyone's got a net or something?'

'You can ask if you want. I don't think the grid'll come off anyway.' Eliza pushed her blonde hair out of her eyes and pulled at the metal to no avail.

'We could… pour buckets of water down until the water level rises, and then-'

'Okay, Sorcerer's Apprentice. Off you go.'

'You're no fun…'

Their heads knocked together as they pondered the problem. 'What we need,' murmured Roberta, 'is a really big stick…'

'You know, I've got a big stick you can use.'

The girls cracked their heads together much harder than they intended. 'YAH!' They looked up simultaneously to see…

The man in the top hat grinned, showing pearly white teeth. 'Hi!'

Eliza recovered first. 'Don't… do that to people.'

'Oh I'm sorry little girl.'

Eliza was about to say she was nearly fifteen and not a little girl, but then he'd want to know why she was still playing bouncy balls with her little sister, so she didn't say anything. Roberta got straight to business. 'Have you really got a stick we can use?'

'Sure! This one here.' The man showed them his cane.

'It's full of candy,' Eliza pointed out unnecessarily.

'Well of course it's filled with candy – it wouldn't be a candy cane if it wasn't filled with candy now would it?'

The sisters exchanged looks.

'What do you need it for anyway?'

'Eliza threw our ball down the grid,' said Roberta, at the same time as Eliza blurted, 'It wasn't my fault!'

The change was incredible. The man's gloved fingers recoiled instantly, an expression of disgust on his pale features. 'Eeeew! Do you even know what lives down there? Little crabby, crawly creatures with six legs and sharp claws, that'll nip your little noses right off!'

Another look passed between the girls.

'Riiight.' Roberta's voice took on a cultured accent. 'And how do you propose to get our bouncy ball back then, mister?'

The man grinned. 'I don't.' He laughed: a sort of impish giggle. 'Instead, I want you two to test my latest invention.'

He reached into his coat with his free hand and produced a small ball, about the same size as the lost bouncy ball, but bright red. 'What's that?' asked Eliza, squinting at it.

Roberta's jaw had dropped. 'No…'

'But yes!' said the man, grinning that strange grin again. 'This, my dear children, is my latest invention: bouncing gobstopper!' He held it up and examined it. 'It needs a better name, but watch, watch!'

He stood up and went into the middle of the road, still wearing that smile. They could see he was wearing a plum-coloured velvet tailcoat and black waistcoat, with ridiculous high-heeled boots. Eliza's eyebrow rose.

Still smiling, he threw the gobstopper at the tarmac, and caught it as it shot back up again. 'See! Bouncing…' he threw it down again. '…gobstopper!' He caught it. 'And when you or your friend…'

'We're sisters!' they cried.

The man stopped, caught off guard. 'You are?'

'It's the hair isn't it?' Eliza looked pointedly at her sister's dark hair, a sharp contrast to her fair head.

He put his head on one side. 'I guess so. That's just… weird. But anyway!'

He bounced the sweet a few more times, then rubbed it on his sleeve and licked it. 'Yum! And when you or your _sister_ are done bouncing, you just wash it a little, then eat it all up! But be careful not to bite it, my dears, or you'll shatter your little teeth.'

There was a pause, and then Roberta went: 'Woooooooooooooow…'

'We shouldn't accept food from strangers,' whispered Eliza worriedly. 'And they don't get stranger than him.'

'But _he_ ate it! Do you even know who--'

'Berta, it's bright red! Do you know what kind of dye makes that colour? It's a type of beetle that they crush and--'

'Not in my factory,' interrupted the man. 'My red color is made from the juice of snozzberries, which tastes much nicer than beetles. Uergh.' He pulled a face.

'…Snozzberries?'

'Here! Try it!'

He threw it to Eliza, who missed.

_Splash_.

'…Oops.'

Roberta hit her across the back of the head. 'I don't BELIEVE you!'

The man closed his open mouth. 'Well. There goes the only bouncing gobstopper on the entire world,' he said sulkily.

'Don't make me feel worse than I am…' Eliza crouched over the grid again, where the red gobstopper floated alongside the green bouncy ball. The water's reflection showed Roberta's brown-haired head and the man's top-hatted one join her, their heads framing the edge. He smelled vaguely of peanuts.

'What we need,' he said pensively, 'is a really big stick.'

_**fin **_

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(Incognito) Willy Wonka © Roald Dahl/Tim Burton/Johnny Depp


	2. Invention 2

**Invention 2: The Song  
**_'No distractions, Wonka, get the song done first, 'kay?'_

_'He's modest, clever, and so smart, He barely can restrain it..'_

Master chocolatier Willy Wonka tapped his pen against his teeth, humming his new creation through again. His eyes roamed the ceiling for inspiration. Inspirtation promptly struck, and he bent over the manuscript sugarpaper again.

'_With so much generosity..._' He sang it as he wrote, sounding it out. He sucked the pen. 'Mmm! Strawberry!' He bit the lid off and crunched it up dreamily, then he remembered and finished it hurriedly. 'NO!' he told himself. 'No distractions, Wonka, get the song done first, 'kay?'

He leant back in the chair, shrugging off the tailcoat in the hope of freeing his imagination a little. 'A rhyme,' he sang, putting his fingertips together, 'I need a rhyme for _restrain_...' The strawberry flavoured pen became his conductor's baton as he went over the song again. 'Help me out here!'

The Oompa Loompa pasting up the newest variety of lickable wallpaper simply giggled. Willy Wonka removed his top hat and automatically patted his hair down. It was getting a little long again; perhaps he should think about bringing forward this quarter's haircut to... Business!

He surveyed the Oompa Loompa with a look of mock severity. 'Well if you're not going to help me you could at least stop distracting me. I've simply got to get this song finished otherwise the dear children will never know who I am and by the way, what flavour is that one, I don't recognise the pattern – have you been experimenting again without telling me, because you know what happened last time--'

The Oompa Loompa folded his arms, then pointed imposingly to the sugarpaper song. The chocolatier grinned sheepishly. 'Oh. Yeah. Thank you.' He sucked on the pen again, shivering with delight as the hidden sherbet met his tongue. He'd quite forgotten about that – maybe he should look at the recipie again and add something else, maybe some dribbly caramel... but no, that might get over the children's schoolbooks, and he couldn't have that. What else, what else...

The sugarpaper came into focus again, and he tutted and slapped his wrist. The Oompa Loompa climbed down the ladder and picked it up. All Willy Wonka could see from his desk was the ladder moving across the floor to the door, and he giggled.

Maybe... Yeah, maybe he could make an edible version of Snakes and Ladders! The pieces would be shaped boiled sweets dusted in icing sugar, and the snakes would be jelly and multicoloured so when you licked them five different flavours attacked your tongue, and the ladders would be licorice twigs covered in chocolate, and the board would be chocolate as well, but that'd mean the box would have to come with a warning that said "DO NOT BALANCE THE BOARD ON YOUR KNEES – IT MAY MELT!" just in case people tried it and got all sticky. Eeeew...

And the dice would be... He chewed the pen again. What would the dice be made of? Well, when he had his special child at the end of The Day in February, he would ask him or her, and they'd know!

'Oh my goodness, I did it again!' He slapped his wrists three times in quick succession and bent over the sugarpaper again. To tempt himself into writing more, he allowed himself to lick the paper, and was surprised by how over-sweet it was. That would have to be sorted... just as soon as he finished the song!

'Train... plane... mane... cane... Contain! Yeah! _There is no way to contain it_!' He made the Loompa sign for 'cacao' (by far his most favourite word in their language), and scribbled it down before he could get distracted again.

**_fin_**

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(Was supposed to be a drabble; I got distracted...)


	3. Invention 3

**Invention 3: Rainbow Drops  
**_'That's impossible...'_

'Hah, Oi can get moine further!'

Tom swallowed the remainder of his cherry, prepared, aimed, and fired. The stone sailed over the freshly mown hay and plopped down a good three feet further than Jimmy's. His friend groaned. 'Aww, pathetic! Oi can beat that.'

'Go on then, beat it, spit fifty feet!'

'That's nay fifty feet.' Jimmy munched his cherry, juice dribbling down his chin, swallowed, then stood up.

'Hey! Sitting only!'

'New rules,' shot back Jimmy, around his stone. He spat, but he must have done it wrong, because the stone simply dropped down his shirt and rolled under a twig.

Tom rolled over laughing. 'Aww, pathetic!' he mimicked.

There was a small _phut_ from behind the two farmhands, and something sailed over their heads and disappeared into the unmown hay that lay a decent distance away. A high, fluty voice drifted over the hill. 'Yeah! A new record!'

Tom sat up, grass clinging to his back, and replaced the strap of his braces that had fallen off his shoulder. '_That_ is a good spit, Jim! Jimmy?'

Jimmy wasn't listening; he had walked away from the farm to the brow of the hill. Tom crammed the remainder of his pasty into his mouth and followed.

He stood beside his friend and stared. The tall, thin man in the expensive velvet coat was fishing in a small cellophane packet, which held the last of what resembled brightly coloured fruit drops. He looked up briefly and then addressed them whilst struggling with the bag. 'If you two wanna come down here, I'd like you to try something out for me.'

Tom started down the hill, but Jimmy grabbed his sleeve. ''Ave you lost your moind? 'E could be anybody!'

Tom shook himself free. ''E's a good spitter. That means 'e's all roight. Are you coming?'

Jimmy shook his head. 'Oi'm watching from up 'ere, where it's safe.'

'Suit yourself.' Tom ran down the hill and jogged to a halt a safe distance from the man. Close to, they were in fact about the same height The man had progressed from struggling to near full-on wrestling with the cellophane.

'I always wonder why I bother with this stuff,' he said, agitated. 'I mean, what's wrong with paper bags?'

'Why don't you just tip it out into your 'and?' asked Tom, feeling this was the blindingly obvious solution to the problem.

The man paused, 'Hey, you know what? That's a really good idea!' His pale face split into a toothy grin, and he emptied the little packet into his hand. The little drops glistened with sugar in the hot sun. 'Now. These are Rainbow Drops, but not just any Rainbow Drops. These are my Fabulous Spitting Rainbow Drops!' He stepped closer. 'You suck on one of these, and in five seconds, you'll be able to spit in all colors of the rainbow!' He giggled, a sound that made the hairs on Tom's neck stand on end. It was far too _high_ for a real man...

He looked him over: the coat and the boots and the short dark hair, the top hat and the huge sunglasses that obscured half his face, the gloved hand holding the top of what appeared to be a life-size candy cane, the other hand holding out the harmless-looking sweets. If this was some kind of harvest gremlin, it was one with a strange dress sense.

He chewed his lip in thought, and the man pulled a face. 'You don't want to eat yourself! Try these!' He shoved the hand under Tom's nose.

Tom took a step back, then, ignoring Jimmy's cry of protest, plucked a yellow drop from the small pile. The strange man withdrew his hand, looking delighted. 'Now eat it!' he said encouragingly.

Tom tossed the drop into the air and caught it in his open mouth. Fortunately he didn't choke on it, like he had with Lizzy's grape (oh, that had been embarrassing...), and as he cracked it open a rush of lemony bittersweet-ness roared over his tongue. The inside of the sweet was liquid, and he supposed that was the spitting part. He chewed and swallowed the rest of the drop, his jaws aching with the bitterness, and prepared to spit.

He wouldn't spit high this time: he wanted to see if the man had been telling the truth about the rainbow colours. He cupped his hands and spat.

The stranger recoiled in disgust, his fingers twitching, but Tom was staring fixedly at the pool of spittle. 'Wow,' he breathed, turning his hands this way and that. The liquid really was in all colours of the rainbow. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. 'That's impossible...'

The man was grinning again, 'Isn't it? And if you eat one of each color, you can spit a rainbow! Try it, try it!'

Tom wiped his hands on his trousers and took another handful of the drops, crunching them up hurriedly. The flavours were more intense than the real thing: strawberry vied with orange for sweetness, lemon and lime clamoured at the back for bitterness, and two types of blackcurrant exploded somewhere in the middle.

Soon enough, the mixture in his mouth was devoid of the hard exterior of the drops, and he threw back his head and spat. A rainbow fountain shot from his mouth and curved over to the ground, glittering in the sunlight. Tom's eyes bulged. Up on the hill, Jimmy gasped in wonder. The strange man giggled again and clapped his hands together, scattering the few drops left onto the grass. 'You see? It works!'

Tom spat what was left as hard as he could, and it just crested the hill. 'New record for me too,' he observed.

The man dived into a pocket and produced a notebook and pencil. He licked the nib and flicked through the book to a blank page. He scribbled something; on the page facing him, Tom could see several noughts-and-crosses games and a hangman with a top hat. 'That's very interesting... It would appear that my Fabulous Spitting Rainbow Drops also increase the average distance one can spit...' He licked the end of the pencil again and smacked his lips a couple of times. 'Cherry...'

'Y'what?'

'Eatable pencil for schoolchildren. I tried making a biro, but the ink stained my tester's tongue, so that one's on the shelf at the moment.' He chewed the rubber on the end thoughtfully. 'Perhaps I should put sherbet in it...'

'Erm, Sir? Are these going to be in ee shops at some point?'

'Why of course they will! And as a special thanks to you for helping me test them, here!'

Tom took the cellophane packet with a grin. 'Are these...'

'Yep! All for you! Well thank you again, my friend, but I really must be going now.' He stowed the notebook and pencil in his pocket again and shook Tom's hand vigorously. 'All the best!'

He turned and minced away across the field.

Tom turned the little packet in his hand as Jimmy thundered down the hill and nearly collided with him. 'What _was_ that stuff?'

'Fantastic Spitting Rainbow Drops. Come on, Oi'll show you 'ow to spit _properly_.'

**_fin_**


	4. Invention 4

_**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, guys and gals! Hat tip. Longer one this time: Fabulous Spitting Rainbow Drops to the one who finds the origin of the teacher's name._

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**Invention 4: Chocolate Birds  
**_'Now children, watch carefully.'_

Miss Laura Engel couldn't help wringing her hands slightly as she addressed the class. The tiny four and five year olds regarded the visitor with a mixture of wide-eyed wonder and slight fear. Miss Engel had to admit she wasn't entirely comfortable in his presence either.

'Anyone who is allergic to chocolate, please put up your hand.'

No result: so far so good. At this question, he had grimaced very slightly. He still hadn't taken off his huge, goggle-like sunglasses either.

'Children, this is Mr Wonka, the chocolate maker. Some of you will know his shop in Cherry Street.' Now they were interested, sitting up straighter, some even folding their arms in readiness for the volunteering that was sure to follow. Miss Engel smiled and continued. 'Mr Wonka has something he wants you all to test for him.'

Now he did take off his sunglasses, surveying the children with twinkling lavender eyes. 'Good morning!' His manner reminded Miss Engel of the lonely red squirrel that lived in the tree outside her house. Several children were smiling unconsciously. 'Now, I'd like one volunte--' Immediately, every hand was in the air, all except one in the front row.

Mr Wonka turned to the boy. 'What's the matter? Donchya like chocolate?'

The boy, round faced with dark curly hair, scowled. Miss Engel moved in. 'Mr Wonka, Noah doesn't like to participate very much.'

'Well we'll have to change that, won't we? You see I need exactly thirty different children to try this out, and if you don't try it as well, I'll be one person short, 'kay?'

Noah's scowl faded slightly; Miss Engel privately suspected the long, winding sentence had confounded him a little, but said nothing. Mr Wonka turned a dazzling smile on the children again and produced a tall, cellophane bag.

'Are those Mini Eggs?' piped up Jason Small.

Mr Wonka looked affronted. 'Wash your mouth out with soap, li'l boy. These are a special kind of chocolate egg, much better and tastier than those ones nasty Mr Prodnose makes. I need one volun--'

Again, all hands shot up, and the ensuing cries of 'Miss! Miss! Look I'm folding my arms, miss! I've been good all week miss! I've got a sticker today miss, pick me!' made the chocolate maker stop with his mouth open.

Miss Engel stood up and clapped her hands for quiet. 'Settle down, settle down.'

Mr Wonka gave her a grin. 'Thank you. Now children, watch carefully.'

He held up a small, blue speckled egg between his red-gloved thumb and forefinger, then placed it on his tongue and closed his mouth. There was silence for about ten seconds as his eyes looked furtively from side to side, then he showed them his tongue. A tiny, pink, sugary baby bird sat on the tip. He retracted his tongue like a cuckoo clock to a collective gasp of amazement. 'Now! Who's next?'

'Um. Miss Engel?'

Miss Engel answered without looking around. 'Shouldn't you be out at lunchtime?' When there was no response she turned and automatically looked down to see who was speaking. Her eyes fell on a torso covered with a black waistcoat, and she straightened up hurriedly. 'I'm sorry, Mr Wonka, what was it?'

His curious eyes were concerned. 'Did you think they liked them?'

Miss Engel went back to her tidying, talking over her shoulder. 'I've taught this class for nearly six months now, Mr Wonka, and I can tell you I have never seen them so delighted. It's been such a pleasure to have you this morning.'

'Yeah...' He fidgeted on the spot, staring around at the classroom and the artwork on the display board nearest to him. 'Oh look, look!'

'What is it?' She bundled the last few rag dolls into their drawer and shut it with her hip.

The chocolatier was pointing at a particular painting: a clumsy red house with a large 'WW' on the front door. 'Someone's painted my shop!'

Miss Engel smiled and read the name in childish scrawl on the bottom right. 'By Roberta. Ah yes, she lives in the house opposite. She's always telling her friends when there are new sweets and chocolates in the windows, and after school they all rush down to see.' She removed the corner drawing pin, smoothed the paper down, and replaced it. 'You never see her without her older sister. It's nice to see a family so close.'

'Yeah...' he said again, in the same absent way. He examined the painting for a few minutes, whilst Miss Engel busied herself with the sand playthings.

_'Hands up who has a sister? All right, now hands up who has a brother? Good, now hands up who doesn't have any? Oh, just you, Willy?'_

_'Yes, miss.'_

_'Then you, Willy, are what is called an Only Child. Aren't you special?'_

_He didn't feel special; he felt lonely. The friends he told his Papa about were the older bullies who stole his lunch money and teased him about his teeth and his name. He longed for a big brother to take care of them for him, to hold his hand when he was scared and walking home in the dark, to play games with him in the street like the other children's brothers did. _

_Or if not a big brother, a little brother, someone he could look after and teach about the world, and play games with. Now he thought about it, it would be better to have a little brother, because then Willy would protect him from the bullies and they'd run away from home and go on adventures together and find Mama._

'Mr Wonka? Are you all right?'

He turned a too-bright smile on her. 'Yeah, I'm fine, thanks! Heehee...'

Miss Engel knew how to read body language, and Mr Wonka's was practically screaming "Get me out of here." She put a hand on his forearm. 'I'd like you to know that since Wonka's Candy came out, I have never seen so many happy children.'

The smile gained a little credibility with her praise. 'Thanks,' he said again, softer than before. He licked his lips and said in a rush, 'Hey, is there anything you think could be made better with those eggs, because I'm always open to suggestion!'

Miss Engel thought. 'I think,' she said slowly, 'I think it might go down better with some of the children if it were a chocolate bird. I noticed some of the little girls looking a bit nervous – the tiny pink bird was very cute, but perhaps _too_ realistic.'

He nodded and fished in his pocket. 'Too realistic, chocolate birds...' He produced a notebook and made a scribble of it. 'That's a very good idea. Thank you! And now...' He dived into the pocket of his waistcoat and produced a pocketwatch. The movement, strangely, seemed to start from his feet and work its way up his body in a large swing. 'Oh my goodness, I ran over! Thank you very much for having me, Miss Engel.' He pumped her hand enthusiastically, seized his overcoat and glasses from the coat hooks, and was gone in a flash of scarlet velvet.

Miss Engel was about to make a start on the bricks when his head reappeared at the door. 'I forgot! Miss Angel--Erm! Engel! Here!'

She caught the packet of eggs with a large grin. 'Thank you so much, Mr Wonka!'

He tipped his hat with a silly little grin and was gone.

**_fin_**


	5. Invention 5

**_A/N:_**_ You're all wrong about the Engel! Wrong wrong wrong! Haha! -Calms- It was in fact a name I plucked from the Thanks section in the OST booklet. It could of course be the same person, but I've never heard of the one you Loompas were talking about... Okay, in this one you have to spot the recurred characters. _

_This thing has more links than a chain fence...

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**Invention 5: Candy Catapult  
**_'Wooooooooaah...'_

The summer evening lingered over the streets, bathing the close, terraced houses in thick golden light, like caramel. The younger children had been caught and sent away to bed, but the older ones stayed on, playing large extended games of tag, skipping the rope, and so on.

Six year old Jethro Button had acquired rather a lot of new friends recently, thanks to his recent birthday present from his older brother at University. They were with him now at the corner with the ginger beer advert, and Lewis was pushing to the front with a small ping pong ball. 'Hit the window, Jeff!'

Jeff fitted the ball to the leather pouch of the catapult and drew back the elastic. The kids stood eagerly behind him, giggling. Jeff released the string; the ball shot across the street and pinged off the window of Mrs Skilmouth. They could see her put down her newspaper and come bustling to the front door, and they scattered, laughing. She shouted at them (nobody understood what she said), and went back inside, with the ping pong ball.

Lewis joined Jeff at the corner and peered around. 'She's got the ball...'

'Yeah. You'll have to knock for it, I'm not going.'

'You shot it!'

'You told me to!'

'But it's my ball!'

'I'm not knocking at _her _door,' repeated Jeff. 'You told me to do it, and it's your ball anyway, so you go.' Lewis glared at him, and Jeff grinned. 'I dare you.'

Lewis thought about it. 'If I get it back,' he said slowly, 'you'll let me play with the catapult all tomorrow?'

Now Jeff thought. The ping pong ball was their only good ammunition, and Lewis said all his others had been stolen by the cat. It would be weeks before his parents remembered to give him pocket money to buy a pack from the shop, so he nodded.

Lewis gave him a thumbs up sign and scampered off.

Jeff went back around the corner and carefully checked over his catapult. It still seemed to be elastic enough, and the handle was still smooth and shiny. A couple of kids he knew by sight ran past him, their boots clap-clapping loudly on the cobbles, followed by his classmates Noah, Jason, and fat Kenneth Mosely, whose big face was red with puffing. Jeff waved at him. Kenny stopped and panted, 'Come on Jethro, play Manhunt. We're losing so badly without you.'

Jeff shook his head. 'I've got to wait for Lewy, 'cause Mrs Skilmouth took our ammo off us.'

Kenny would have said more, but Eliza Brown and her sister Roberta flew around the corner and tagged him. They dragged him off as their prisoner, crowing, 'We got Kenny! We got Kenny!' Kenny gave Jeff a helpless look as he was frog-marched around the corner.

The streetlight above Jeff flickered into life, and he jumped out of his skin at the strange shadow that appeared at his feet. Quickly he looked up, and his jaw dropped. What he had thought was an alien's square head was in fact a smart top hat, and its owner was smiling. 'Hiya! What a great cata-thingy.'

'Catapult,' corrected the boy.

'Yeah, that. But I've got something better...'

He took a Y-shaped package from his coat pocket and pulled at the wrapping. 'Oh fiddle...' A strange smile leapt onto his face, and he presented the package to Jeff. 'Here. You can open it.'

Jeff ripped apart the coloured paper and went, 'Wooooooooaah...'

'You like it?'

'Is this... candy?'

'Yep! The whole thing is totally eatable. Even the string, which is liquorice.'

Jeff looked up in awe. 'Are you Willy Wonka?' he asked in a very small voice.

The sweet maker crouched, one hand still on the candy cane. 'Shhh...'

'You are, aren't you?'

'Shhh! Why don't you try out the cataplut, hmm?'

'Catapult,' corrected Jeff again. 'But I don't have any ammo. My friend Lewis is coming back with the ping pong ball in a minute, though, and--'

'Oh never mind him, did you know he catches spiders _with his bare hands_? Disgusting, eew. Use a gobstopper.' He held one out, a bright blue one, and stood up as Jeff took it. 'Fire it at the wall,' he instructed, never blinking his strange eyes.

Jeff did as he was told and fitted the gobstopper into the pouch, drew back the string, and fired. To his utter amazement, the gobstopper hit the wall and _bounced back_ into Mr Wonka's waiting hand. 'See? Bouncing gobstoppers, plus the candy catapult, equals fun fun fun! Basic mathematics.'

Jeff was gobsmacked. Mr Wonka polished the gobstopper on his sleeve and, quick as a cat, popped it into Jeff's open mouth. 'Enjoy.' And he was gone in a swirl of velvet.

Lewis came around the corner, and hurriedly smacked Jeff hard on the back to stop him choking with laughter over his gobstopper.

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_Total viewings of film to date: 5 _

_I don't think this was as good as the others, but Invention 6 should be a bit more original._


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